Comfortable
by cloudosaurus
Summary: This isn't what Katsuki had in mind when he offered to share his bed with Kirishima. Not that he's about to complain. [KiriBaku. Fluff with a bit of smut. College AU.]


Katsuki walked in from his last class to find Kirishima fast asleep. On _his_ bed. Kirishima was curled up on top of the covers, eyes shut, mouth open, slow breaths coming in soft snores. His long hair was down instead of in its assigned spikes, so that the dark crimson strands fell across his face and spread messily over the pillow. Katsuki's spare pillow. Kirishima shifted, and his baggy black shirt slipped down, revealing a tanned shoulder.

Katsuki dropped his heavy backpack onto the floor with a grunt, and stomped over to where Kirishima was fast asleep. On _his_ bed.

"Hey, Shitty Hair," he said, flicking Shitty Hair's forehead none too gently. His gaze dropped down to Kirishima's mouth, where a string of drool had collected at the corner of his plump, slightly chapped lips.

Kirishima groaned and twitched and his long, red lashes fluttered. But his eyes didn't open from under heavy lids, so Katsuki flicked him again. This time, he whined and swatted haplessly at Katsuki's hand as he forced himself awake. His dark eyes were hazy with sleep and impossibly lost, and if Katsuki was the kind of person to feel bad about things like this, maybe he would. But he wasn't, so he crossed his arms across his chest, and watched as Kirishima struggled to sit up, and blinked - once, twice, thrice - until the world came into focus.

He sighed, looked up at Katsuki, and then blinked again. Kirishima's sharp eyebrows rose with realization, and he cocked his head, rubbing the back of his neck as he offered Katsuki a sheepish grin.

"Bakubro!" he said. "My bad, man. My bed is kinda, um -" Kirishima gestured vaguely to his own bed on the other side of the room, covered in a mountain of clutter; from heaps of clothes (both dirty and freshly laundered), to opened textbooks and notebooks with ripped pages, and piles of useless miscellany - Katsuki had no idea why Kirishima had half of this shit, and he doubted Hair-for-Brains did, either.

"Fuckin' slob," Katsuki muttered. Kirishima had the decency to blush and look mildly apologetic. He raised his hands in mock surrender.

"I know, I know! It's just that time of the semester, bro - had three exams in a row, the final match of the wrestling tournament, some other stuff to take care of." Kirishima trailed off and shuddered as though the very memory was frightening. Katsuki rolled his eyes.

"Uh, Bakubro?" Kirishima ventured unsurely, biting his lower lip with a sharp tooth as his fingers tugged at a long lock of dyed hair. Katsuki uncrossed his arms to stuff them into the pockets of his jeans instead, and leaned in to study Kirishima's face. His skin was devoid of its usual glow, and there were puffy black bags under his tired eyes. He answered without waiting for Kirishima to ask.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I'll let you share for the night," he said, trying to grumble the words like he didn't really care. Kirishima's eyes widened, and the corners of his mouth stretched into a smile.

"Only if you clean up your shit first thing in the morning," Katsuki hurried to add with a huff. But it was too late. Kirishima gave him a happy grin brighter than the sun, and reached up to throw his arms around his broad shoulders, wrapping Katsuki in a tight hug.

"Thanks, bro!" he said, and pressed closer, until Katsuki could feel the hard lines of Kirishima's body against his own, and stray strands of red hair that were surprisingly soft tickled the sensitive skin of his neck. Katsuki struggled to suppress a shiver.

"Dumbass," he replied, stepping away. Katsuki hadn't bothered to return the hug, but Kirishima's smile was still too bright, entirely unfazed.

Kirishima was slow to remove his arms from around him, and his touch seemed to linger on Katsuki's skin. He glanced warily at Kirishima, who sat perched on the edge of his bed, feet dangling as he peered up at Katsuki with unconcealed interest. Their eyes met, and Kirishima's ruby ones crinkled with warmth.

"'M gonna go take a shower," Katsuki said quickly, and then wondered why he felt the need to announce it.

"Kay," Kirishima nodded, dumb grin still plastered across his face. It was making Katsuki irrationally nervous. He wanted to throw a pillow at Shitty Hair's shitty face. And then, Kirishima trembled. It was a full-body shudder that passed from the tips of his toes through his fingertips to make his hair stand on end, and Katsuki gaped. Kirishima trembled - _shivered_, Katsuki realized belatedly - again, laughing awkwardly as he ran a hand through his mussed crimson locks. Katsuki raised a pointed brow.

"Uh," Kirishima muttered, fidgeting under Katsuki's gaze. "It's kinda cold."

"Where the hell is your blanket?" Katsuki demanded, eyeing the tall piles of stuff on the redhead's bed with suspicion.

Kirishima bit his lip. "I lost it, actually," he said, and scratched his head. "Forgot it at the hotel the last time we had an away match. Haven't had time to buy a new one."

Katsuki snorted and shook his head. "You're an idiot, dumbass."

"Yeah," Kirishima had the nerve to laugh as he said this, but Katsuki didn't miss the goosebumps that danced across his bare skin. He walked over to his closet, to the hanging shelf where he'd neatly placed his folded laundry after getting it done this morning. Because unlike certain slobs, Katsuki was always on top of things. His fingers found the soft fabric of his blanket before he caught sight of it, and he pulled it out carefully before tossing it to Kirishima.

"Here," Katsuki called. "Catch."

He did not catch it. The blanket landed on top of Kirishima, who yelped and scrambled as his world was turned dark. Katsuki leant against the wall and bit back a chuckle as he watched Kirishima frantically try to worm his way out from underneath it. When his head poked up, eyes wide with alarm, Katsuki smirked. Kirishima flushed, and then looked down at the blanket in his lap, and his expression dissolved into an easy smile.

"Thanks, Bakubro," he said beaming up at Katsuki.

Katsuki grunted, and shut the lights off on his way to the shower.

* * *

He came back to find Kirishima sprawled across his bed on his back, legs splayed as he held a notebook up to his face. Kirishima was half-buried in the blanket, but it had slid off where his t-shirt rode up his stomach to reveal washboard abs. Katsuki kicked their bedroom door shut with a bang, and strode over to Kirishima as he toweled his hair dry.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Studying for physical chemistry," Kirishima replied with a lazy grin, turning over on his side to look up at Katsuki through thick lashes that fluttered. Kirishima's eyes glittered with something that Katsuki couldn't quite place, and he swallowed.

Katsuki deliberately avoided Kirishima's gaze. "Didn't know you took p-chem," he allowed, entertaining Kirishima.

"I don't. But I might," he said, even though he was majoring in economics. "I kinda want to take a class with you, we haven't had one together since freshman year." Kirishima's tone somersaulted between playful and serious, and Katsuki considered what to acknowledge as he sat down on the edge of his bed.

"I know," Katsuki finally said. Kirishima was quiet for a few moments. Then, fabric rustled as he shifted, and soon enough, Katsuki could feel the redhead sit up behind him. Kirishima leaned in until his warm breath ghosted over the nape of Katsuki's neck.

"You smell nice," Kirishima said softly, whispering the words against Katsuki's skin. Katsuki's grip on his towel tightened, and he sucked in a sharp breath. Heat bloomed on his face, and he begged it not to extend to the tips of his ears where Kirishima could see.

"It's called body wash, Shitty Hair," he grouched, even though his voice broke and there were butterflies in his stomach as Kirishima kept leaning in, until his broad chest was pressed flush against Katsuki's back. Katsuki wanted to shout something at the dumbass about the concept of personal space but found that his tongue was failing him, so he waited with a pounding heart for Kirishima to move away. But he didn't. Instead, he sidled even closer and spread his legs, so that Katsuki was trapped in the V between his powerful thighs, and their knees touched. Kirishima's hair brushed Katsuki's cheek as he rested his head in the crook of Katsuki's neck. Katsuki had changed into a tight wife beater and pajama pants, and Kirishima dragged his fingertips over Katsuki's bare bicep. Katsuki shivered. There was no way Kirishima hadn't felt it.

"Have you been working out more lately?" Kirishima asked, letting his cool fingers rest on Katsuki's skin. His voice was deeper than usual, and Katsuki's breath hitched.

"What's it to you?" Katsuki muttered, but his voice shook and lacked any real malice. Kirishima just hummed, rubbing a palm firmly over the shape of Katsuki's sculpted muscles. He trailed his fingers up and then began to massage Katsuki's shoulders. Kirishima's hands were calloused but gentle, and Katsuki tried hard not to fall back into his touch. When soft, pleased sounds started to form in the back of Katsuki's throat, Kirishima paused, and let his fingers wander down Katsuki's arms again. He gently raked his nails across Katsuki's forearms before ending in feather-light touches on the insides of his wrists, and Katsuki couldn't help but arch back into Kirishima's hold as his eyes fluttered shut.

A fierce blush painted his cheeks, and Katsuki knew that even if Kirishima couldn't see it in the dim moonlight that filtered through the window, he could feel it, where their faces were pressed together cheek to cheek. Katsuki gulped.

It was when Kirishima wrapped a strong arm around his waist that Katsuki choked on a whimper, and found his voice in a panic.

"Kirishima. What are you doing?" he hissed, freezing as Kirishima palmed the chiseled outline of his abs through the thin fabric of his wife beater. Sparks danced inside Katsuki's body where Kirishima's large hand lay dangerously low on his taut stomach, teasing fingertips brushing over the hem of his pajama pants. His heartbeat quickened, until it was hammering against his chest so loudly that Katsuki was sure Kirishima could hear it.

Kirishima nuzzled Katsuki's neck. "You're so warm, Bakugou," he breathed into the shell of his ear, sounding entirely too sultry in a way that set fire to Katsuki's blood. When Kirishima tightened his hold on Katsuki's slim waist and placed his other hand on Katsuki's thigh, heavy with intention, Katsuki shuddered and threw his head back with a gasp, trying and failing to stifle a moan. Kirishima kneaded his thigh firmly, working his way up so that his knuckles brushed against Katsuki's cock that was beginning to stir, and Katsuki couldn't take it anymore.

He turned around and tackled Kirishima onto the bed.

"Um," he announced, pinning Kirishima's wrists above his head and straddling his waist. A raging blush covered Katsuki's face and extended down his neck, and he felt at least somewhat mollified to see that a deep pink glow tinted Kirishima's cheeks, too. The redhead looked up at him with wide, darkened eyes, licked his lips, and then tentatively reached for Katsuki's hips. Katsuki let him.

His hands cupped around the swell of Katsuki's ass, and Katsuki fucking mewled, collapsing disgracefully onto Kirishima's chest as he forgot what he had wanted to say. Kirishima kept exploring Katsuki's ass, massaging the soft skin and spreading his cheeks and sometimes palming at his half-hard cock, until Katsuki was gasping for shallow breaths in-between desperate whines.

Soon, Kirishima became bolder. He dropped a hand to the front of Katsuki's pajamas, and traced a line up the underside of his swollen cock, ending at his tip that leaked wet precum. A loud moan spilled past Katsuki's parted lips, and he wriggled his ass further into Kirishima's grip. Kirishima swallowed thickly. He gazed at Katsuki with glazed eyes like molten pools of lava, and brought their hips together, grinding into the blond. Kirishima's erection was so, so big and _hard_, and Katsuki moaned again, whimpering as he scrabbled to clutch his broad shoulders.

Kirishima groaned and slipped one hand underneath Katsuki's t-shirt to roam over the smooth skin of his toned stomach and chest, while he kept fondling Katsuki's swollen cock with the other. His fingers brushed against a pert nipple, and Katsuki cried out.

"Ah!" he gasped.

Kirishima played with the nipple, flicking it roughly and pinching it between his fingers, and Katsuki trembled. His cock twitched. "Kiri-!" he groaned, bucking his hips into Kirishima's as he buried his fingers in his long, red hair, pulling hard.

A low sound tore from Kirishima's throat. He flipped them over so that Katsuki was on his back, limbs splayed out, and placed a knee between his legs, spreading his thighs apart. Katsuki flushed. He made to cover his burning face, but Kirishima didn't let him. He grabbed Katsuki's wrist and tilted his chin up forcefully, staring into his eyes with ruby orbs that smouldered.

"Bakugou," he said, voice deep and husky and so laden with promise that it sent shivers up Katsuki's spine. "You want this too, right?"

And Katsuki could have laughed out loud. Of fucking course he wanted this, hadn't Kirishima been the one feeling up his boner? But Kirishima's nose was scrunched and his eyebrows were furrowed with concern as he waited for Katsuki's reply, even though his own erection was painfully hard where it rubbed against Katsuki's. Katsuki suddenly remembered why he liked the shitty haired idiot so much.

"Obviously I do, Shitty Hair," he grunted, feeling his cheeks flame cherry red, and yanked his arm out of Kirishima's grip to hide his face.

Katsuki didn't get to see the pointy-toothed grin that stretched across Kirishima's features before he planted a soft kiss on Katsuki's forehead and unzipped his jeans.


End file.
